Jack MacGyver
by Aruna Hart
Summary: How did MacGyver become Jack O'Neill? Based on MacGyver and the first seven seasons of Stargate. Read and Review!
1. The begining of the end

Two motorcycles zoomed through the California streets. They pulled to a stop in front of a large office building. One of the drivers pulled off his helmet and motioned the other to follow him inside. Together they walked up to the guard. A smile crossed the sentry's face as he motioned them to pass.

A few minutes later and sixteen floors up, they exited the elevator. Walking quickly, the older of the two weaved his way knowingly past an array of desks and file cabinets. He stopped in the door way of a private office and listened to a balding man give out assignments.

"Masters and Johnson I want you to work on that geological survey being done in Juno. Nikki I want you on the Imperto case. We need a reason for his involvement with the Syrian embassy bombing. Halston, you and Marstowe are to look into the Myers kidnapping. Alright people lets get moving. And remember, if you can avoid firearms..."

"We know, we know" Nikki began and the rest of the room followed with, "Don't use them!"

"Sounds good to me Pete. I knew you'd keep everybody in shape while I was gone, "the man in the doorway said.

Everyone spun around, shell-shocked to hear his voice. "MacGyver?" Pete Thornton asked. "Is it really you?"

"In the flesh. You didn't think I'd never come back did ya?" MacGyver asked with a grin as Pete walked over and gave him a hug.

"Well it's been three years since we last saw you and Sam ride off. By the way where is that boy of yours?"

"Right here Pete," Sam Malloy, aka Sean Agnus MacGyver, spoke up as he entered the room.

"Three years?" MacGyver asked. "Huh, I didn't realize it had been that long."

"Dad did send letters and post cards though Pete," Sam reminded the group.

"Well, well if it isn't the prodical son," Nikki spoke up. "What brings you back to this little dot on the map? Not that we aren't happy to see you."

"Actually, I want to start back up with the Phoenix Foundation. Sam and I have decided to settle down here, at least for awhile." MacGyver looked at Pete with hopeful eyes.

"Of course, when do you want to start? Do you have an apartment yet? When did you get back? Where…" Pete began to ask until MacGyver cut him off.

"All in good time Pete all in good time."

It turned out that after MacGyver had left the Foundation, he and Sam had traveled all over the world. They used this time to get to know one another, get themselves into all sorts of trouble, and use their brains and odd contraptions to get out it. After three years of traveling, they decided it was time to go back to California. As soon as they arrived, MacGyver had gone straight to the Foundation to see if he could start work there again. Being assured that he was always welcome, MacGyver and Sam found a small house. Now, one year later father and son worked as partners for the Phoenix Foundation.

"Hey Dad!" Sam hollered up the stairs, "Come on Dad get up! Time is wasting away!"

MacGyver groaned and rolled over in bed. He pried one sleepy eye open and glanced at the clock. The numbers were blurry but he could decipher a seven and a zero. Giving another groan he buried his head under the pillow.

Normally, rising at seven AM would be no problem. Normally. Last night, however, MacGyver had just returned from a week of terrifying escapades through the dense jungle of China out witting poachers who were trying to capture Panda bears for their fur.

This had been one mission that Sam had not accompanied his father on, so he didn't know that MacGyver had arrived back home a three AM.

"Dad? Pete called he wants me to come in says it's important. I left a list of stuff we need on the table. See ya later." Sam called. MacGyver heard the door shut and the sound of his son's jeep driving away before he lapsed back into a dreamless sleep.

Several hours later, MacGyver crawled from bed and hit the shower. After dressing, he wondered into the kitchen. He picked up Sam 'list.'

Dad, we need the following:

Duck tape (at least 4 rolls)

Swiss army knife (I lost mine in that last mission)

Tofu (I think the stuff in the fridge is rancid)

Bread

Milk

Fruit Bars (we need to restock our emergency supply)

See ya later, SAM

Mac didn't really feel like going to the store, but he knew they needed the stuff on the list so he decided to go. Hey what's the worst that could happen?

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"MacGyver?!" a voice called.

He cringed. He knew that voice and it could only mean trouble. He put the tofu into his basket hopping that he was just hearing things. Maybe he was dreaming.

A hand touched his shoulder. Nope not dreaming. MacGyver turned around and was greeted with a slap on the back.

"Hey kemo sobie! Long time no see!" Jack Dalton greeted him. "It's been forever! Fancy seeing you here!"

"It's been two months Jack," MacGyver replied sighing inwardly. It wasn't that he didn't like Jack. It just seemed like every time he was around Jack there was bound to be trouble. Besides, this seemed like a set up. Since when did Jack Dalton shop in Tray's Health food store in the tofu isle?

"What do you want Jack?"

"Oh, come on Mac. I'm hurt. Can't a friend just say hi?"

"Ja..ck.."

"Ok, Ok. I need your help."

"Really? I would have never guessed." MacGyver turned and walked away.

"Mac!"

By the time Jack caught up with MacGyver, he was checking out. Jack waited outside the front door. The minute MacGyver stepped through, he began to plead his case.

"Mac I really need your help. See I offered to help this guy get out of his country if…"

"Then you help him," MacGyver cut in, slamming the door to his jeep. "Let me know how it turns out." He started the vehicle and drove off. He felt a little guilty being rude to Jack, but that man was trouble plan and simple.

Arriving back home, MacGyver placed his purchases on the counter. He was beginning to put them away, when he noticed a blinking red light on the answering machine. He hit play.

"Hi Dad! Pete explained to me about your trip. Sorry about waking you. Pete needs me to go on an assignment for a few days. I'm leaving ASAP so this means I won't see you until I get back. Just thought I'd let you know. Bye.

"See you don't even have to worry about the kid."

MacGyver spun around to see Jack standing in the back door.

"The answer is still no!"

"Mac, please just listen."

He knew he shouldn't, but he felt guilty about earlier. Before his common sense could say no! He shook his head yes. "OK go ahead."

"While you were off with Sam, I ended up in a little trouble." Jack began.

'Imagine that' MacGyver thought.

"I was in Iraq and…"

"Iraq?! What…" MacGyver began

"Long story. Let's just say I was in Iraq and being held prisoner. A young soldier helped me escaped across the border. I promised him that if he ever needed anything just ask. Yesterday he contacted me. The people who held me captive believe that his brother helped me escape and they are going to execute him the day after tomorrow. Mac I need you to help me get him out of there. We can't let him die for something he didn't do," Jack pleaded.

MacGyver was stuck. He didn't want to continually bail Jack out of trouble, but he couldn't let innocent people get hurt just to teach Jack. "Where in Iraq did you say he was being held?"

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"WHAT?!" MacGyver yelled. "and you didn't tell me this before because?"

"I knew you'd react like that," Jack replied, steering his plane across the Atlantic.

"I can't believe you. You didn't say that he is a POW, being held by American soldiers and being exchanged tomorrow for an American reporter. THEN, he'll be killed."

"It's easy you go in and free the reporter, then the Americans will have no reason to hand over Osa."

"Easy? You call that easy? Where is this reporter? Or does that lead to another hair brained scheme?" MacGyver angrily glared at Jack.

"Um… Well…"

"I'm waiting, Jack."

"I don't exactly know," Jack muttered and then hastily added, "But Osa does."

"Oh, great the prisoner knows. How do we know that we can trust him, that it's not a ploy to get us to go there?"

"Osa's brother saved my life. I trust him, just like I trust you. If he says Osa is telling the truth then I believe him."

"Assuming that Osa is telling the truth, how am I supposed to get to him to find out where this reporter is?"

"You'll go in as a soldier."

"Umm Jack how am I supposed to do that with out a uniform?"

"I got you a brand spanking new set of camo before we left the States it's in back there in the black bag."

MacGyver climbed into the cargo bay of the plane and located the bag. He emptied its contents. "Jack? I thought you said this was a new uniform? How come it says O'Neill on it and is very worn?"

"Ok so it's not exactly brand new, but it's new for you. You can use O'Neill as your name to get in the base. Besides you don't want brand new stuff you'd stick out like a sore thumb."

"Jack, that still doesn't answer my question. How'd you end up with a uniform that says O'Neill on it?"

"I really doesn't matter that…"

"Jack!"

"I dug it out of a donation box for the Salvation Army."

"Jack!"

"Don't worry I replaced it with that set of sweats you had in that box marked donations in your living room."

"Not the blue pair, please tell me you didn't give away the blue pair."

"I didn't give away the blue pair?"

"Ackk!! Jack you gave away the blue pair your eye twitched! That box happens to be my laundry basket. It was the donations box from last year's charity event. I recycled it."

"Oops."

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Dressed in the camo, MacGyver silently infiltrated the camp. He quickly located the place where Osa was being held.

"Osa?" he whispered.

"Who is there?" was the reply.

"A friend of Jack Dalton."

"Have you come to free me?"

"Not quite yet. First, I need to know where the reporter is being held."

"As I have been trying to tell the rest of the Americans, there is no reporter. The resistance is planning an attack at day break. They will kill me and everyone else here."

"There is no reporter?"

"No there never was."

"What about the soldiers? You're sure you told them?"

"Yes they just laugh and say they will become like heroes."

"I'll be back," MacGyver told Osa. He felt that something in this camp was off. He needed to know what it was. If Osa was right then in approximately fifteen minutes this compound would be attacked.

He saw a group of men bathed in light from a lamp near a hut. He crept closer to hear what they were saying.

"So in a bit we set off smoke grenades and the resistance will come get our POW then we both head for those new guys coming to reinforce us. The resistance will attack them, we save them, and the resistance who are 'defeated' disappear. We go home heroes and that dumb what's-his-name gets what he deserves. Plus, later we can tell our government where the resistance is leaving no witnesses. It's perfect, sheer perfection." One of them said.

"Hey keep it down will you." A nervous soldier told him.

"Ah your just a coward the resistance isn't gonna be here for another 30 minutes at least."

MacGyver crept away. Suddenly he saw something move on the other side of the camp about 20 feet from where he was. He looked closer, but there was nothing there. He dismissed it from his mind and rushed back to Osa.

Osa was easily released, and together they snuck towards where Jack was hiding. Suddenly, the place erupted in gunfire. MacGyver and Osa dropped to the ground for cover. MacGyver's first thought was to get Osa to safety. He needed a distraction. Glancing around he saw one. A flare gun.

"Osa wait for my mark then run as fast as you can to those bushes." He told the man.

MacGyver grabbed the flare gun and ran back towards the center of camp. Apparently, MacGyver hadn't been the only one sneaking around camp the resistance was there too and had overheard the same thing MacGyver had.

Once MacGyver reached the center of the camp he propped the gun in between some crates. Then he used a string and ran it for about 15 feet. Pulling the cord tight, he caused the gun to explode. He had two purposes. One, distract both sides from Osa's run. And two, he was alerting the reinforcements that were supposedly coming of the trouble.

However, he hadn't considered that the flare would light up the entire camp as bright as noon and he wouldn't have the cover of darkness to hide under.

Meanwhile, Jack saw the diversion and pulled Osa to safety when he reached the brush. He waited for MacGyver to follow. After two minutes, still no MacGyver. Jack was beginning to worry. He sighed with relief when he saw his friend running towards him. MacGyver was halfway there when he was suddenly engulfed in flames as a grenade landed at his feet.

Jack didn't see reinforcements arrive or the massive battle that ensued. All he saw was his friend's death played over and over in front of his eyes.

"Jack? What are you doing here?" A familiar voice asked.

"M…M…Mac," he managed to mutter.

"Jack? Where's Dad?" Sam asked.

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MacGyver remembered running, then seeing the round metal ball land 20 feet in front of him. He remembered feeling its heat and being tossed very far through the air, then nothing but blackness.

When he finally came to again, his head was pounding it felt like he'd tried to crack open a boulder with his head. He felt dizzy. Jack. This was all Jack's fault.

'I'm going to kill him,' MacGyver thought. Suddenly another stabbing pain burst through his head. "Jack," he whimpered weakly. Frustrated that it hadn't come out angrily like he'd wanted it to he tried again but before he could pronounce the first syllable, he lapsed back into the darkness.

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The outbreak of gunfire alerted the incoming troops of trouble, however the flare sent them running to help. Before they could reach the camp though, grenades started flying everywhere. One was particularly close. Colonel Carter saw a man go flying. On a hunch he ran to where the body landed. Sure enough, the man was an American soldier.

He checked for a pulse not expecting one. He was shocked when he felt the steady vibrations against his fingers. Carter carried his comrade to a safe distance before he tried to rouse him. "Come on wake up!" Carter tried to rouse the man in vain. Meanwhile the fighting had stopped and Carter's men where capturing the rebels that were still alive.

Carter turned his attention back to the unconscious man. His face was red and blistered from the grenades heat several cuts caused blood to cover his face, hair, and upper body. Carter looked for dog tags but could find none. Then, the injured man's eyes started to flutter open. He winced. Carter leaned forward. "What's your name son?" the man moaned. "What's you name?" The man moaned again and turned to the side. Carter knelt closer to give him a sip of water.

"Jack." He muttered. Then a look of frustration crossed his battered face his lips started to form another word but the man fell unconscious.

An idea struck the Colonel he dumped some water over the man's chest. There. Clearly visible was his last name.

"Don't worry you'll be home soon, Jack O'Neill."


	2. The False Truth

MacGyver moaned. His head was pounding. The roar of a motor didn't do anything to help. He could feel himself being lifted and placed in the back of a truck. MacGyver wanted to resist but couldn't gather enough energy to do so. Instead, he gave in to the darkness closing in around him.

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Colonel Jacob Carter dusted his hands off and surveyed the disaster around him. Something bad had gone down. He had been assigned to lead a group of men to this post; however, it hadn't been for reinforcements like the post commander had been told. The military had been following this group of men for almost two years. They had reason to believe this group was rouge. It was Jacob Carter's job to find out more about this outpost's members. Now, that would be impossible because they were all dead, killed by the rebels.

The only lead he had was the young soldier he had discovered, Jack O'Neill. Carter climbed into the truck where O'Neill had been placed and gave the order to move out. He'd send someone back to retrieve the bodies; this was more important right now. If the rouge outpost leader had been planning something this soldier might know about it.

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Memories flooded MacGyver's head. His station in Vietnam, the time he had to defuse a bomb on the cruise ship, his encounter with the air balloon over the desert sand, the time he'd rescued a stolen horse using a helicopter, the secret underground base at the Phoenix foundation that blew up. The memories kept coming, and so did the pain in his head which was starting to get worse. 'Come on MacGyver, you can beat this,' He thought. He tried to distract his mind by remembering the names of people he'd met so time ago. This was successful for awhile. The important diplomats and women he'd known were easy. MacGyver remembered the time when Jimmy the Eraser had tried to rescue his family and the false priest snuck Jimmy a gun. He groaned as the pain and pressure in his brain began to build even worse. He tried to remember the name of the false priest that gave Jimmy the gun. It was something with a "K." He felt like his brains were being squeezed out of his eye sockets he gritted his teeth. 'Kalsy, Kamasy, Kasky. No that's not right,' he thought. Tears started streaming down his face from the pain. The pressure was unbearable. Then it came to him, "Kawalsky!" He shouted as the pain grew unbearable. The pressure took over. The last thing MacGyver remembered was his son's face when they drove off to "someplace else."

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Colonel Jacob Carter watched the soldier he'd rescued tremble in pain. He knew if they didn't get back to the base soon the man would die. He wondered about where this man had come from. Jacob had read the personal files of every man stationed at the rouge outpost and there wasn't an O'Neill listed.

Jacob watched the injured man's fist clinch and his face go tight. "O'Neill!" Jacob called. No response. He called again trying to rouse the man. Jacob knew O'Neill must have been in agony. Tears started to fall down the injured man face leaving white streaks on the muddy skin. Suddenly, the man called out. "Kawalsky!" Jacob leaned forward to hear more, but the man went limp. Jacob reached out to feel for a pulse fearful for the worst. He was relieved when he felt one.

A few minutes later they arrived at the base and medics rushed over. After they wheeled away O'Neill, Jacob summoned the sergeant.

"You called sir?" the young woman asked.

"Yes, I want you to pull up the file on one Jack O'Neill with two 'L's" he commanded.

Yes Sir, right away sir." The sergeant hurried off.

While waiting for the sergeant, Jacob decided to check in with the doctor. He walked over to the infirmary and was about to enter the emergency area when a nurse rushed past.

"How's O'Neill?" he asked. The nurse continued past while answering.

"Surgery Sir, check back later. He in bad shape, bleeding out. I've got to go," he continued running down the hall.

Jacob watched him go. He suddenly got a weird feeling, and said a prayer. Something told him that this Jack O'Neill needed to survive, he wasn't sure why, but there was something about this man that was important.

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"Sergeant! Do you have that file for me yet?" Jacob questioned. It had been several hours and there was still no word on O'Neill's condition or his file.

"I can't seem to find it sir. There is no mention of a Jack O'Neill. There are several Jonathan's that fit though. However, I have no way to know which one he is. This one worked in Iraq for the past 10 years and is on assignment here right now with his team headed by himself and 2IC Captain Pete Hopkins. Another O'Neill is under Colonel Forbes in Asia. The third guy is listed as MIA for the past 3 years and presumed dead his 2IC Captain Charles Kawalsky now has his command. The…"

Jacob jumped up. "That's him!"

The sergeant looked skeptical. "How can you be sure?"

"While we were on our way here he screamed for someone named Kawalsky. It has to be him. Tell me more about him."

"Oo..K. Jonathan O'Neill born in Minnesota, USA in 1952. Fought in Nam and joined the Air Force. He has several Special Op missions on file, the last one being the one where he went MIA on here in Iraq. Only child, both parents died in a car crash when he was 19. No other known family. Owned a place in Minnesota, and lived in D.C. where he was last stationed. Both houses were sold a few months ago and his belongings sent to a friend in California. That's it."

"Thank you sergeant, dismissed," Jacob processed the information. Special Ops. He'd read that the rouge group had been investigated once before, about three years ago, but the mission was unsuccessful due to an attack by the Rebels on the team before they were able to retrieve anything. "I wonder…" He quickly walked over to the phone. "I need to speak with General West."

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It was confirmed. Three years ago Major Jonathan J O'Neill, aka Jack, had been assigned to investigate the operations at the rouge outpost. On the way to the analysis of outfit Iraqi rebels had attacked the company of men with landmines and bombs. Major O'Neill was discovered missing in the aftermath. Search teams had been dispatched without any luck. After a few weeks O'Neill was declared MIA presumed dead.

No one knew how O'Neill had survived, where he'd lived or why he was at the outpost now. Jacob Carter believed that word had reached the outpost and together, the rouges and rebels attacked Major O'Neill's men. Then, O'Neill was captured in the heat of battle and held hostage at the outpost for the past three years. When the rebels turned on the rouges, O'Neill took advantage and tried to escape. It all made since, now.

Jacob was still pondering his theory when the doctor paged him on the overhead. He quickly made his way to the ER. "Well Doc?" he asked.

"Major O'Neill will live, although he'll be in recovery for awhile. He's lost a lot of blood. The pressure in his head was building monumentally we had to drill a hole to release it. He has 2nd degree burns on his legs and back and seems to be completely exhausted. I've put him into a medically induced coma so that he can rest. I say it will probably be about five to six weeks before I'll even begin to think about discharge, and at least three months before he can begin to think about any type of work."

"Thank you Doctor, May I go in and see him?"

"I don't see any reason why you couldn't just not for too long." The doctor left to go clean up.

Jacob went into the room. For the first time he actually got a good look at the man. His hair had grown long and he needed a shave. His face was drawn, tired, and pale, like a weary warrior returning home for long months at battle.

"Good Job, Major," Jacob said. "Welcome back to freedom."

A/N

Hey guys! Thanks for reading! However, I love to hear what you think or your ideas on how the story should go! Thanks, Aruna


	3. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Colonel Jacob Carter stood looking through the glass that separated him from the isolation room trying to understand what had happened.

Major O'Neill had been recovering nicely for the past four day, although he still remained in the medically induced coma. Then suddenly he had taken a turn for the worse. His heart rate dropped and his breathing was almost nonexistent. None of the medications the doctor had tried had work so far.

Carter silently said a prayer that the young soldier would recover. The door opened and a doctor approached the colonel, a grave look on his face.

"What's the word doc?" Jacob asked knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"We ran some tests. It's encephalitis. We're doing everything e can to fight the infection. I'm going to have to bring him out of the coma. He needs to fight. However, the infection has already affected his brain," the doctor turned to leave.

"Affected his brain how?" Jacob demanded.

"Memory loss, amnesia, personality changes…He'll need to be in familiar surroundings once he begins the recovery process," this time the man waited for Cater to dismiss him before attempting to leave.

"Thank you," Jacob turned back to face the clear glass deep in thought. Familiar huh? Determination spread across his face. He turned and practically ran to his office.

Four weeks later, O'Neill was just starting to feel better, but he was still very groggy, and Carter was still working on his plan. The colonel had called in many favors. He had also threatened the entire base that if his recent activities were mentioned to O'Neill, there WOULD be numerous transfers to the coldest, most miserable, loneliest place on the world.

Carter only had one more piece of the plan to complete and everything would be perfect.

The phone on his desk rang. "Carter!" he barked.

"Hey Dad," he heard the sweet voice of his daughter, Sam. "You're coming home on the 14th right? Anyway I was thinking…" Sam continued to talk about what she had planned for his up coming down time.

Jacob groaned on the inside. He loved spending time with his kids, but to help O'Neil Carter had given up his week of down time. It had been his only choice.

"Dad?" he heard Sam ask and realized she'd been trying to get his attention for some time.

"Yeah honey?" Jacob hoped he didn't sound too distracted.

"You're not coming are you?" Jacob mentally screamed.

"I want to sweetie, but I can't, duty calls,"

"Duty always calls!" Sam was almost yelling.

"One day you'll understand Sam. I'll be home for Easter."

"Yeah whatever Dad, but I won't be here."

"Sam, what are you talking about?"

"I joined the Air Force; I ship out for the gulf on the 30th. Don't worry I'll send you a post card." Sam slammed down the phone.

Jacob slipped his head into his hands. He knew sending her to the academy was a bad idea. He only hoped that if she ever ended up in O'Neill's position there would be someone like him that would help her.

A/N

Hey all sorry it took so long for me to get this up! I know it's short, but I'll try to have more by this weekend. I hadn't gotten many reviews so I assumed it wasn't very popular, until I received at least three this past week! Thanks,

Aruna


	4. Wonderings and friends

Jack's head was throbbing. He moaned and rolled onto his side. Sleepily he cracked one eye open. The unfamiliar surroundings startled him. He shot up. 'That was a mistake,' he thought grabbing his head. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes taking in the room, and waiting for his head to clear.

Obviously this was a hospital room. However, he couldn't remember why he would be there. His chest tightened in panic when he realized he couldn't remember anything! Jack held his hands up to his throbbing head. Everything was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be here. He had something else to do that was very important. The only problem was he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. It frustrated him to no ends.

His head started pounding even more as Jack desperately fought to remember anything at all. He was so absorbed in trying to uncover memories he didn't notice the monitors beeping wildly as his pulse started to rise rapidly.

A nurse flew into the room. Surprise fluttered across her face when she saw O'Neill resting on the edge of the bed. "Major! You're awake! Why don't you sit back and I'll go find the doctor.

Jack absent mindedly obeyed. Major. She had called him major. That meant he was in the army. Funny how he could remember army ranks and not even know his own name.

The doctor came speeding in curios about his patient's status. O'Neill shouldn't have woken for at least four more hours. Jack's eyes stared at the man, and the doctor instantly shivered. Something was different about this man, and it wasn't just the hollow empty look in his eyes.

The doctor examined O'Neill and found that other than his memory loss, the major was in perfect health. He signed something the nurse had thrown in front of him and proceeded to leave the room, but he could still feel O'Neill gaze burning into his back.

"Colonel Carter!" the doctor sighed in relief as he spotted Jacob coming around the corner. "Major O'Neill is doing very well physically. However, he doesn't seem to remember anything about his life before being here. I'm discharging him this afternoon. I suggest getting him back to the States as soon as possible. Being around familiar people and places should help him regain his memories."

"What if his memory doesn't return?" Carter asked.

"Major O'Neill should be fine even if his memory doesn't come back. Although he can't remember personal things, like relatives names and where he went to school, O'Neill can tell you names of presidents, wars, and military tactics. The knowledge is still there it's just locked in his brain. He needs time and a little bit of rest to find the key. It's common in stressful situations to forget what happens; in this case the major has forgotten all events that led him to the situation. The more a person is exposed to unfamiliar things the harder it is for them to remember."

"So rest and familiar surroundings huh?" Jacob asked.

"Exactly," the doctor replied.

"Thank you," Jacob dismissed the man. He walked down the hall. He was glad he had been working on his plan since he had found O'Neill. He had been going to personally escort O'Neill back to the States, but now it looked as if Captain Kawalsky would be doing the honors. It would take some doing, but Jacob would get it done.

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Captain Charles Kawalsky stood in front of the infirmary. Two days ago he had been told that he wouldn't be going home for at least the next eight months. This morning however, those plans had changed drastically.

He had been preparing for inspection when General Howard had commanded him to pack his things and hop a copter to meet a Colonel Carter on a base at the edge of the desert. Two hours later he stood shell shocked as Carter had told him Jack O'Neill was alive!

Kawalsky hesitated a few more moments before going in. He had known Jack for eighteen months before he went MIA. He had made a promise to him. Now he wondered if Jack even remembered about it. Carter had said he could remember much and needed to be around familiar things. He wondered if and when he should tell Jack about it.

Charlie was still debating what to do when he saw him. His hair was longer, his face older and thinner, and more muscular than Kawalsky remembered, but that's what happened when you were held captive for three years in the desert.

"Sir!" Kawalsky saluted.

"At ease captain," O'Neill stated.

"You remembered me!" Kawalsky looked hopeful.

O'Neill gave a sly grin his eyes full of mischief. "I don't," he finally admitted.

"Then how…?" Kawalsky gave a bewildered look.

"I know all," O'Neill teased as he grabbed a duffel bag off the bed and stepped into the hallway motioning for Kawalsky to lead the way.

Finally, Kawalsky got it. "My wings," he laughed starting back towards the entrance. Maybe this mission wasn't going to be so hard after all.

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A/N

Sorry it took so long for me to update, but there was a death in my family and I really didn't feel like writing for a few weeks. But I'm back now. I know it's short, but at least it's something. Please read and review (I live for the reviews). Thanks,

Aruna


	5. The Ride

Jack sat silently staring out the plane window thinking about the man sitting next to him. He knew he was supposed to remember the captain and the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place the man. He wondered what his life had been like before he disappeared.

"Jack?" Kawalsky asked.

"Yes"

"How much do you remember?"

"Everything except my entire life." Jack muttered miserably.

Kawalsky didn't know how to begin telling a person about themselves, so he didn't. "I'm Charlie, we met a year and a half before that last mission."

"Nice to meet you Charlie."

"I'm going to try and fill you in on some things. Before we get back to the States." He waited for Jack to nod his okay before beginning. "You were a colonel and I was a major. General West had assigned us to work as a special ops team. It was supposed to be for just one mission, but the mission was so successful that we ended up being the first two members of a full time special ops unit. You told me a little bit about your life. Your parents died in an accident when you were 19. Your mother had an uncle named Harry Jackson, your only other relative." Kawalsky paused so that Jack could digest this new formation.

"So I have an uncle?" Jack asked.

"You did. He died two years ago. A military representative checked into who attended the funeral, and found out that Mr. Jackson's wife and daughter had died years before and no other relatives came."

"So I have no family?" Jacked asked. Kawalsky could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"Not exactly, after you fought in Nam, you applied to the Air Force. You attended the academy in Colorado Springs. About five years before you disappeared you were stationed at Andrews AF Base."

"And this is important because?"

"While there you met a girl named Sara Thomson. From what I hear the two of you were inseparable"

"I am married?"

"Not quite. You had bought an engagement ring a few days before we found out about the mission. Jack I know you don't remember it, but before we left for that final mission you had this feeling that something was going to happen. You made me promise you something."

"Okay, what?"

"I've tried to do my best, but it's been hard."

"And…"

"I want you to know that he started doing it all by himself. I had no part in it…"

"Oh for cryin' out loud. Just say it!" Jack impatiently yelled.

"You have a seven year old son named Charlie."

Jacks eyes went wide. "I do?! That's great!"

"Well…see… Jack he was only four when you left. It was hard on him. I tried to take care of him just like I promised. I took him to ball games, taught him how to ride a bike, and joined scouts with him. After awhile he started calling me Da. I tried to stop it, but the therapist said to let him do it. Something about the healing and acceptance process." Kawalsky looked at Jack with frightened eyes. Letting another man's son call you 'Da' was grounds for a punch in the nose or worse.

Jack's actions, however, surprised Kawalsky. He leaned over and patted him on the back. "I'm glad that he had someone there for him."

Kawalsky breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do they know I'm alive and coming?" Jack asked.

"Oh yes! It's all been arranged. As soon as we land, the three of you will board another plane to Minnesota. Your original cabin was sold, but the Air Force bought you another one just a few days ago. Seems the owner died recently and his son couldn't stand the thoughts of going their without his father."

"If my cabin was sold where were Sara and Charlie living?"

"California. They moved their after you were declared MIA. Because you and Sara weren't married, the AF refused to give her a widow's pension. Boy she was pissed. She then refused all assistance from them. I helped her settle in to an apartment out there. She said the government could keep all your stuff. A few months ago the AF decided to sell the houses and sent your belongings to her."

"Wow! So now we're going to live in Minnesota?" Jack mumbled to himself, but Kawalsky overheard.

"Actually, the cabin is just for a break. You've been offered a position back in Colorado Springs. You would have to find a house there, but with the back pay you'll be receiving, buying one shouldn't be a problem."

Jack's mind was racing trying tom process all this new information at once. Suddenly, he spotted the airport. Jack took a deep breath. Thoughts of how they would look and what would they be like pushed away all other ideas he may have had. As the plane taxied down the runway Jack stared out into the crowed waiting area. He wondered which young mother and child waiting there was his future.


	6. Lake Balls

"Jack?" a timid voice spoke by his side. He turned. A blond haired woman stood there. She was slender and her hair fell to her shoulders. Her blue eyes stared up at him filled with wonder, fear, and anticipation.

A small voice interrupted his examination of the woman. Jack's eyes traveled down to her waist where he finally spotted another head of blonde hair standing next to his mother. The child had one arm wrapped around his mom, and the other one held her hand tightly. "Dad?" the seven-year-old asked.

Jack had thought this would be different, that he'd see…Sara? Yeah that was right, and instantly regain his memories. They'd go off and live happily ever after. But, he didn't feel anything. Not the slightest bit of recognition.

By now the boy had become restless. His mother had shown him a picture of his dad years ago. She'd even had it framed and put in his room. Every night after he said his prayers and mom left the room, he'd crawl out of bed and walk to his dresser where the photo stood. There in the darkness he'd talk to his Dad. He'd tell him what he did that day, who his friends were, what he wanted for Christmas and birthdays.

But the one thing he wanted most was for 'Dad' to talk back. Charlie wanted him to say something. Sure he called Kawalsky 'Da,' but he was still more like an uncle than a father.

Now, Dad stood before him. The boy knew it was him because he looked almost identical to the picture. In fact, it was exactly like the picture because neither real dad nor picture dad said anything. Disappointment flooded the child's face. He turned away not wanted 'dad' to see him cry. 'Soldiers don't cry' Kawalsky had told him once, and he wanted to be 'dad's' little soldier, he'd even wore camo to meet him today.

Meanwhile, Jack just stared at the duo in front of him still trying to make everything seem real. Then, he saw the disappointment in the child's face. Watching the boy turn away, Jack suddenly knew what he had to do. Recognition or not, this was his family and no way was he going to let some SOB in Iraq destroy that.

Charlie pulled at his mother's hand. He was ready to go. If dad was just going to be like the picture, then there was no reason to stay. At least picture dad smiled.

"Charlie?"

The boy stopped in his tracks. Slowly he turned and faced the mysterious man, unsure of what to do next.

However, he didn't need to decide. The man dropped to his knees. Holding his arms open wide, he smiled.

It took all of about two seconds for the child to reach Jack. Charlie hugged his father so tight that Jack could hardly breathe, but he didn't say a word.

Sara had anxiously watched the first interactions between father and son. Seeing this new development, she breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since that first call alerting her that Jack was still alive Sara had been fearful of this very moment. Now her fears had been put to rest. She nodded her thanks to Kawalsky as he quietly slipped away while Jack and Charlie hugged.

Jack stood, Charlie firmly attached to his neck. He slipped an arm around Sara and headed for the exit. As they walked, Sara couldn't help but stare at him. She studied his face. Something was different, she was sure of that. His hair was lighter than she remembered as was his voice, he was skinner (most evident in his face) and there were a few new scars.

That was it.

Before Jack had left for that final mission, she clearly remembered a scar on the back of his hand, a scar that was no longer there.

Studying his hand closer she saw how weathered it was. There were also recent burn marks and healing cuts from the explosion that led to his rescue.

His rescue. Sara shuddered as thoughts of what he must have gone though the past three years filled her mind. She couldn't imagine what he had endured during that time, held hostage by men from his own country and kept away from the ones he loved.

Sara snuggled closer to Jack as they walked. She didn't care about missing scars; as long as he was safe by her side she was satisfied.

Two months later, a cabin somewhere in Minnesota

Sara watched as Jack and Charlie fished. Jack still hadn't regained all his memories and the doctors were beginning to think he never would. He could recall parts of his childhood and some undercover work but not much. Sara was slightly disappointed that he had no memories what so ever of her or Charlie.

Her thoughts were interrupted by two giant splashes followed by squeals of laughter and the sloshing of water. She looked up to see two soaking wet figures walking towards her. "What in the world happened to you two?" she asked trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile.

"Dad lost his balance and pulled me into the lake with him," Charlie grinned.

Jack's mouth dropped open. "Someone lost their balance but it wasn't me."

"Well you're the one who was tickling me," Charlie accused.

Jack reached forward to begin a tickle attack again, but Charlie was ready and took off running, his dad in hot pursuit.

"We leave in two hours! You'd better be ready!" Sara called after heir retreating forms. Shaking her head she walked back into the cabin to finish packing the last of their things.

The Air Force had given Jack a job in Colorado Springs and provided them a house there. Almost everything had already been shipped. All that was left was a few dishes and clothes. Well, make that dishes, clothes, and two mermen.

Ever since their arrival at the cabin, Jack and Charlie spent almost all their time at the lake fishing or playing catch. Sara couldn't count the number of baseballs that had 'somehow' managed to find their way onto the floor of the lake. She was surprised they hadn't 'fished' any up; there were probably more balls in the water than fish!

A/N

I know it took a VERY LONG time for me to update, but real life got in the way a lot these past few months. Sorry to keep everyone waiting so long. I had hoped to write more for this update, but decided that this would be enough to satisfy you for a week or so. I'm not going to promise to update within the next few days cause I don't want to disappoint you if I don't make the deadline. However, one of the reasons I didn't post for so long was the lack of reviews I received. It's nice to just hear a good job, or even this story sucks. Just let me know what you think for cryin' out loud! Thanks

Aruna


	7. A new life

The miles rolled as Jack drove the car through the rainy night. After spending a few months in the cabin, he and Sara had decided to take the position offered to Jack by the Air Force. Sara felt that it was a good move. There were several very good schools in Colorado Springs. It was a nice area and a good place to raise a family. The Air Force had offered them a house and a car, with two months of pay in advance. They could finally be family again. She could stay home with Charlie while Jack taught at the academy. They would all be safe, and not have to worry about Jack being shipped overseas again.

Jack had seen the light in her eyes while the possibilities of what they could have were being discussed. This was what she wanted for them. All of them. Jack felt she deserved to be happy for once. For crying out loud, look at what she'd been put through for the last few years because of him. So, he'd agreed to everything.

However, he wasn't sure if this was the right move for him. He still couldn't remember much of his life before his recent accident. Jack still felt as though he were living a stranger's life. He'd looked thought the photos and listened to countless stories about Charlie and himself, but he couldn't remember any of it.

He could see flashes of his past. A brief moment in history would suddenly pop into his memory and then disappear as quickly as it had come. He remembered building a fort with his dad, but his father always called him "Bud." Jack could see a cake with sixteen candles being placed in front of him, but there was no name on it. And that's what bothered him. No name.

He remembered fighting in Vietnam. But everyone called him Soldier. He could remember flashes of his mother, but she always called him honey. He was Bud to his father. In every memory remnant he was always called something other than his name, and it bothered him.

He needed to remember being called Jack. If he could just see that in his mind maybe it would unlock everything else.

He remembered lots of things exploding: bombs, cars, buildings, boats. The memory that was most vivid was of himself on an undercover mission. He was dressed in camo, complete with face paint. He knew it was somewhere over seas and it had to do with some terrorist. Jack could see himself plant a bomb and then hide outside while the bomb went off. He remembered talking into a radio, confirming the destruction of the target to his superiors. Everything after that was a blur. He didn't know how he knew it, but he did know that the terrorist placed a hit on him because of that action and he'd had to fight the killer. He didn't know how he fought him or where, he just knew that he had fought.

That was the other thing that bothered Jack. He automatically knew things, things that according to others he shouldn't know. He hated the look that Sara gave him when he fixed something that apparently he wasn't supposed to know how to fix. Like last week when the blender broke. Jack had used a paper clip and balloon to repair the machine. It worked like new. Jack thought Sara would be happy. Instead she looked at him as if he were from outer space.

"How'd you do that? You don't know how."

He'd been hearing that a lot lately. During the few weeks he'd decided to stop doing things that he didn't think his previous self could do, like fix the lawn mower or stop the leaky sink. Instead of fixing the sink he called a plumber, and he took the mower to a repair shop. It was easier than trying to explain how he knew what needed to be done when he had no idea how he knew.

Jack stared faking memories as well. It pleased the doctors and thrilled Sara. He decided that he must have not wanted other people to know how smart he really was. It was the only explanation he could come up with. A tactical advantage one might call it. Throw the enemy off balance, though who the enemy was he couldn't tell you.

Once Jack had started faking the memories, the military had re-debriefed him on every mission he'd had in the past. He absorbed every detail hungrily. It was the only clue he had to his past and he held on to every word for dear life. Names and places were stored in his brain. Missions were filed away for future reference. Terms were deciphered and pictures shown were rememorized. When the debriefings were finally finished, Jack felt more lost than he had in the months since he'd woken after the bomb blast. He couldn't remember most of this stuff.

Jack began researching on his own the places and people mentioned during the debriefings. He learned back stories, team members, and terrorist groups. Next, he researched his life. He found pictures, yearbooks, and news articles. He memorized every detail of what his life had been like and who he had known.

Still, he felt like he was missing something. It was important, but he couldn't grasp it. It was like having a name on the tip of your tongue and never being able to say it.

This was where Jack found himself on this rainy night driving to a new beginning and waiting to see what was in store. The job sounded like a good offer. Teach new cadets black ops training. Annual salary seventy thousand with an increase in rank from major to lt. colonel. To someone not in the military it sounded great. But Jack knew what it really was, a bribe. We're embarrassed that we left you for so long, but we don't want you back, so take this title and job and look good in the civilian world.

But this was what Sara wanted. He felt guilty for not being there for her and his son all those years. This was his chance to make it up. That's why he'd proposed to her right before they left. Jack though she was going to faint when he'd slipped the ring on her finger and asked he to wear it forever.

Colorado Springs really did mean a new life. He was going to get married and become a real father. He was going to act as though he'd never forgotten everything he'd ever known. He still clung to the hope that one day he would remember.

With a new determination, Jack sped down the high way, _his_ family sleeping peacefully in the back while the fateful stars twinkled overhead.


	8. Another life

Jack sighed as he signed his name to more paper work. This was one part of his job that he hated. It had been ten years since the day he had been rescued from the desert. Shortly after his arrival in Colorado, he had been approached about re-entering black-ops.

Sara hadn't liked the idea, especially so soon after just getting him back. But, she knew that his current position wasn't satisfying his need for adrenaline and she wasn't going to strain their budding relationship.

Jack, however, was determined to marry Sara before he began his missions again. He'd let her get away once and he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

The ceremony had been a simple affair at a local courthouse. Charlie had been the best man, smiling ear to ear. After a brief honeymoon to the cabin, the new couple rejoined their son in Colorado where mother and child said goodbye to Jack as he boarded a plane for his latest mission.

He was usually successful, but not always. Once Jack's chute had failed and he'd ended up with a fractured skull. Another time he'd ended up captured and imprisoned for four months, but he always managed to find a way home.

Jack loved playing with his son. He had missed so many years of the young boy's life, and he didn't want to miss anymore. The two spent hours playing catch, building forts, and fishing in the small stream that ran through the nearby woods. However, there was one thing that Jack would never let Charlie do. And that was play with a gun, or any form of one. It just didn't set right with him. He wasn't fond of using one himself, but was fanatical when it came to Charlie playing with them. Jack assumed that it had something to do with his past, but couldn't place the memory. All he could remember was that something terrible had happened involving children and guns.

Looking back, he blamed himself. Maybe if he had let Charlie use a fake gun the boy's curiosity wouldn't have gotten the better of him. Maybe if he had used a fingerprint safe instead of a combination lock… He still wondered how his son had learned the number sequence to both the gun safe and the bullet case.

Charlie's death had been a hard blow to both Sara and Jack. Over the years, Jack had been falling more in love with Sara, while she had been falling less in love with him. She still loved Jack, but she loved the memory of the man from before his amnesia more than the man standing in front of her. The aftermath of Charlie's death had been a revelation to her. She was ready to put the past behind and move on to the future, while Jack was more stuck in the past than he had ever been.

When the Air Force had offered a suicide mission, it was exactly what Jack needed. He'd been through too much. The pressure of not knowing his own mind, the loss of his child, and the realization that he'd lost Sara was overwhelming. He was too much of a chicken to flat out do it himself, he'd tried. This had been the perfect opportunity.

Luckily though, he'd met Daniel Jackson and eventually the rest of SG-1. They gave Jack a new purpose in life. He felt needed and useful. His input, though simple, was always welcome. Here, he could simplify his intelligence and put it to good use without all the questions. For the first time in ten years, he actually felt like himself.

Jack slid the papers into the out bin and stood, stretching his aching knees. Leisurely, he made his way to the commissary. The room was nearly empty. Only a handful of SF's were milling about near the dessert table.

Jack smiled as he caught sight of Carter. She was sitting in the corner, nursing a cup of blue Jell-O surrounded by stacks of paper. A pencil was tucked behind her ear, and she was biting her lower lip. Jack knew that face well; some equation was eluding her. He was confident though that it wouldn't be too long before her face was brightened by a brilliant and beautiful smile when the solution came to her.

"Good morning camper!" he said in a chipper mood.

Startled, Sam looked up wildly, the pencil behind her ear launching like a missile aimed right at Jack's arm.

"Ouch!" he faked, rubbing the area as though he'd been stunned by a zat.

"SIR!" her eyes went round. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Relax Major, no blood no foul." He turned the subject, "Whatchya working on?"

Sam's posture eased and she turned her paper towards the Colonel. "I was trying to decipher the decay rate of a naquda generator when powered under nacarbonrite, that new mineral SG-12 brought back from PX3-239. I found that the inverted ratio of the result multiplies by .5487 kilowatts every .8 seconds divided by the …"

"Ackkkkkk! Stop right there, Carter. I thought that lunch break was supposed to be used for a break?" Jack put his arms on the table and rested his chin in his hands.

"Well…I tried not thinking about it sir, but I just couldn't relax know that the answer is just sitting here staring me in the face.

"Take a break Carter, and that's an order. Rest that big mind of yours and maybe after your back from lunch that answer won't be so elusive."

Carter looked back at him with a guilty smile. "Actually it's breakfast. I was so caught up in my calculations I forgot to eat this morning."

"Carter!" Jack shook his head. "Major, I am ordering you to return those papers to your lab immediately. Then you are to come back here, get some grub, and spend an hour, and I mean a FULL sixty minutes not thinking."

"But sir!"

"No but's Major. Your health is more valuable than solving that problem."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied, sound more like a ten year old told to go to bed early than a military officer obeying a command. She gathered her papers and headed towards the corridor leading to her lab. She paused briefly, turning to see where the colonel was, planning on saying something smarteleck.

Jack meanwhile had headed over to the dessert stand and had found himself a nice warm slice of apple pie.

"Oh, by the way sir…" Sam began, causing Jack to look up. But she never got the chance to finish.

A blinding light ripped through the room. A loud bang echoed past Sam's ears. She watched in horror as Jack was suddenly thrown forward, smashing into the crumbling cement walls that just seconds before had been serving as her study corner.


	9. A Mess in the Mess

Sam stood motionless, frozen in shock. She would have expected something like this if they were off world, or even with an unexpected gate activation. But this was different. This wasn't supposed to happen here in the commissary for cryin' out loud. She mentally chuckled over the saying. The Colonel would love that one.

THE COLONEL! Sam snapped back to reality. She had to find him! Rushing into the demolished area, Carter gravitated towards the last place she had seen him.

Someone had hit the alarm, and the obnoxious sirens echoed through the base. She wished they would turn the bells off. They were making it impossible to hear any sounds the survivors might be making to alert rescue teams to their positions.

Sam said survivors because she refused to believe there were fatalities. Not the colonel. He wouldn't leave them like this. In battle defending his country yes, but not in an explosion in a mess hall.

The major climbed over a chunk of fallen cement from the ceiling. The rescue teams were going to need to move fast. Who knew how steady the foundations were now that they had been compromised. The base was designed to allow for possible collapses on one level, while leaving others unaffected, but that was an untested theory. Integrity checks needed to be conducted to assure that the base was still safe.

First priority though was finding the colonel. He had to have been injured. Sam had seen his body slam into the wall. At the force and velocity of the blast, she knew that that he would be hurt.

Carter ducked under sparking electrical wires. "Have Siler shut down the power for block A6!" she yelled over her shoulder at one of the soldiers who had come to help.

By now she had reached the area where moments before she had been sitting. The cement had been blackened and was crumbling under her fingertips. Metal fittings that had once been the foundation were now twisting and jutting from the walls at odd angles, their jagged edges still hot to the touch.

She shivered, trying to remember if O'Neill had hit the wall before or after those poles had emerged. If he had been impaled by one… Carter shook the thought from her head and began to dig through the rubble silently praying that she was pulling it off the colonel and not piling it on top of him. Her efforts were rewarded when seconds later she saw a hand.

"Colonel! Can you hear me?!" Carter called, digging furiously, uncovering more of the limb. Sam breathed a sigh of thanks when she felt the wrist and found a strong pulse.

"Major Carter, how may I assist you?" Teal'c deep voice suddenly boomed by her side.

Relief flooded her body. "Can you help me dig the colonel out? He's buried under this rubble."

The Jaffa nodded and silently began. "Major Carter I believe there is something on top of O'Neill." Teal'c informed her after only a few minutes later.

"Can you tell what it is?"

"It would appear to be a flat surface for the consumption of sustenance Major Carter."

"It's called a table, Teal'c."

"Indeed."

A table. Major Carter's eyes lit up. The colonel had slammed into the wall, and then landed on the floor. The force of the blast must have caused the table to fall on top of him.

"Teal'c that's great!" excitement coursed through her veins.

The alien raised an eye brow. "I do not understand. How is a table on top of O'Neill a good thing?"

"Don't you see? The table acted as a shield. It protected his body from most of the debris. If we can clear away enough rubble from the edges of the table, we can lift the table and the colonel will be free in seconds. Come on help me," Carter commenced digging with renewed energy.

By this time General Hammond, Dr. Frasier, Daniel, and a slew of other Air Force members had entered the area.

"Major Carter!" the general called. "What happened here? Is everyone all right?"

"I don't know Sir!" She responded without looking. "The Colonel is trapped and I don't know who else. There were at least six or seven other people in the room when it exploded."

Daniel rushed over to his team mates and Dr. Frasier motioned her team to follow. They had no more than arrived when Teal'c gave a loud grunt and heaved the heavy mass that covered Jack.

Janet rushed to the colonel's side barking orders along the way. "Give me a C-collar and back brace." She knelt by the injured man and gently opened his eye lids. She shone her penlight and watched the reaction in his iris. "I want a full series of MRI's, CT scans, and x-rays. Start a 15 mm oxytocin drip and infuse 1 liter saline. Move!"

The medics quickly produced the materials ordered by the doctor and soon the unconscious colonel was being carried over the rubble towards the infirmary. However, halfway to the door, a shout made them all freeze.

"SAM!" Jack yelled. It was a voice filled with agony. "SAM!" he called again before lapsing back into his comatose state.

The major felt tears welling up in her eyes. Janet rested a hand on her friend's arm. "I'll take care of him, Sam. Don't worry."

The next two hours were the longest that SG-1 had ever felt in seemed. Carter and Daniel paced the hall, while Hammond and Teal'c rested on the chairs provided for situations such as this.

Dr. Frasier entered the area looking tired. Hammond and Teal'c stood.

"How is he Doctor?" the general asked.

"He's stable for now. There are some second degree burns on his back, and he's got four broken ribs and a badly sprained ankle. There's no internal bleeding in his chest or abdomen." Janet sighed.

"But that's not what's worrying you," Daniel interjected.

"No, it's not. Sam, you saw the blast. Do you have any idea how the colonel landed? Did he hit his head?"

Carter closed her eyes trying to visualize O'Neill's impact with the wall. "He landed on the wall vertically. If anything his chest hit first. There might have been some whiplash." It was one of the very few times Sam wasn't entirely confident in her calculations.

"Colonel O'Neill is suffering from a severe trauma to the brain. There's a skull fracture and some swelling. If the swelling gets any larger I will have to operate."

"What are his chances, Doctor?" Hammond questioned trying not to show emotion. Over the years, the colonel had become more like a son than a subordinate officer. The general knew that he shouldn't have formed an attachment like that to one of his command, but in this setting it was almost utterly impossible not to.

"If the swelling stays localized and reduces, then I'd say very good. In a few weeks he'd be back to himself and within six or so be back in the field. However, if the swelling continues and we operate there's no guarantee he would be able to return to active duty, or even be the same Jack O'Neill we knew."

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop the swelling before it reaches that point?" Daniel asked desperately.

"I've done everything on earth I can possibly think of," Janet collapsed into the nearest chair in desperation. "There's not a specialist I have called that can do a thing about it."

"On Earth," Sam whispered, the wheels in her mind spinning a mile a minute. The rest of the group just stared at her.

Suddenly, Teal'c understood. "The Tok'ra."

"Sir," Sam eagerly approached the general. "The Tok'ra have the…"

"Do it!" Hammond commanded before she could even finish.

SG-1 bolted from the corridor towards the control room.

Hammond looked at Frasier. "Do you think it will work?" he questioned.

"I've seen them heal worse. I just hope that there already isn't permanent brain damage."

"Well doctor, we're going to have to cross our fingers and wait."


	10. Jacob's return

Jacob had just gotten back to the current Tok'ra home world. He had been on a long undercover mission as a minor Goa'uld in order to gather intel on Anubis's strengths and weaknesses. The older man was ready for some long overdue rest, and was eager to try and forget some of the things he'd been forced to do in order to maintain his cover.

That was until Anise had rushed into his quarters. "We have just received word from Earth, a member of SG-1 has been badly injured and they need our assistance."

Jacob's first thought was for his daughter. "Sam?" he asked urgently.

"I believe that Major Carter is alright, I was not the one who received the message. The high council sent me to retrieve you. They felt that you and Selmac would wish to the ones to lend assistance."

Jacob almost rolled his eyes. 'More like we're the ones least needed at the moment because we're already on stand down.' He thought.

'Now Jacob,' Selmac responded silently to her host, 'would you not be upset if we were not the ones chosen?'

'I just wish whoever took that message could have thought to let me know that my little girl was safe.'

'Then let us not waste any more time, but leave at once.'

The whole internal conversation had taken less than a second. Selmac took control, as Jacob was still very worried about Sam. "Was anything said about the nature of the injury?" she asked while walking to the storage area where the healing devices were stored.

Anise answered quickly, "No, there was some sort of explosion at the SGC and several of its members were injured. I was led to understand that injury inflicted was beyond the healing capabilities of the Tauri physicians."

"From what I have learned from Jacob, there are many injuries which the physicians of Earth cannot heal. Although one inflicted by the means indicated may not be able to be healed using this device." Selmac said picking up the object. "Were the Tauri told this?"

"I am unsure," Anise paused. "The healing device may not be able to repair the injury, but a symbiote would almost assuredly do so."

The words were whispered so low that Selmac almost didn't hear them. Jacob's ears perked.

'Did she just suggest what I think she suggested?!' he nearly shouted at his partner.

Selmac ignored her host's interjection. "Although the Tauri are brave warriors they are still wary of the Tok'ra with good reason. They have accepted our friendship and share our mutual trust, but they have been battling the Goa'uld for many years and our first encounter with them was not one of welcoming friendship. At almost every encounter with us the humans lose members of their command. It will take more time for our differences to be set completely aside and live truly symbiotically."

Anise lowered her head.

"They are still young. We must be patient and let them mature. Besides, the message said it was one of SG-1 that had been hurt. Teal'c as you know cannot receive a symbiote. Major Carter does not wish to become a host again. Daniel Jackson is sympathetic to our cause, but would prefer to remain with the humans of earth. And, do you know one of our brethren that could tolerate the brashness of Colonel O'Neill for a few days, much less a hundred or more YEARS?" Salmac joked outwardly, but inside both she and Jacob were wrought with worry about their 'kids,' as that was how they had come to view SG-1 over the past few years.

'Don't worry Jacob, we will be with them soon.' Selmac thought.

It didn't take long for the gate to be dialed and the IDC code to be entered. Jacob and Selmac nearly ran through the gate. Relief flooded them when they emerged earth side and saw Teal'c and Sam waiting at the base of the gate ramp.

"Dad!" Sam ran forward and hugged her father.

Selmac let Jacob have control. "Sam, I'm so glad to see you are you hurt? I was worried. They only said that someone on SG-1 had been injured. What happened?"

Carter led her father towards the infirmary, explaining along the way. "A bomb went off in the mess hall. I had just been in there working, when Colonel O'Neill ordered me to take a break. The blast hit right where I had been. If he hadn't of sent me away, I would have been dead. He's injured badly; broken ribs, messed up ankle, and lots of internal and external bruising. But, that's not why we needed you. When he was thrown by the blast, Colonel O'Neill hit his head. He's got internal swelling and Dr. Frasier says that if it doesn't stop…" Sam's voice cracked. "I know that the healing device might not work, but you're his only chance."

By now, they were standing next to the colonel's bed. Jacob looked down at the still form feeling Déjà vu. He was taken back over a decade previously to the same still form lying on a hospital bed. He hadn't been able to do much then, but at least he could try now.

'We will try the best we can' Selmac comforted as the warm glow of the healing device riveted from their hand.

'You know I've saved his butt before, but somehow I feel that I still owe him this, and I will have failed if it doesn't work.'

'He would not think of it that way,' Selmac offered.

'He doesn't remember me from before, all those years ago in the desert. Little did I know then that I was choosing my little girl's future CO. He still thinks the first time we met was in D.C. when Sam introduced us. I've never told him any different. I've always wondered what would have happened if I hadn't of been there on that mission.' Jacob gave a little grunt and adjusted his hand to a different spot over O'Neill's body. The healing process was taking more time than usual, but that was to be expected.

'Life would have been very different if I have understood your memories correctly. It is most likely that Samantha would have stayed with you at your home, rather than joining the military. O'Neill would have been made a civilian and never offered a position at the SGC. The first Stargate mission would have resulted in the death of Daniel Jackson. Teal'c would still be in service to the Goa'ould. You and I would have never met and therefore we would both be dead.'

'You're telling me that I'm the reason the Tauri initiated the first against the Goa'ould?' Jacob asked suspiciously.

'Your actions have resulted in a massive blow to the Goa'ould and a great victory for the freedom of the universe.' Selmac praised.

'Okay, what are you trying to do? I do have confidence in myself, you don't need to try and boost my self-esteem,' Jacob was a bit perturbed with his symbiote at the moment.

'I am only trying to enhance the effectiveness of the healing device. I have learned from past years that increasing a host's self-reliance while utilizing the healing device greatly enhances to medicinal abilities of the apparatus.'

'Really? I mean thanks, but I think we've got this under control.'

'As you wish,' Selmac replied.

It wasn't long afterwards, that the device stopped vibrating in Jacob's hand.

"We've done everything we can," he told the Stargate personnel.

They looked crestfallen.

"Don't look so sad," Jacob said cheerfully. Sam looked at her father with uncertainty. "I've repaired his ribs, the ankle, and taken care of the bruising, not to mention a few other odd and end injuries. I was able to stop the swelling in his brain and I am convinced there was no permanent damage." He told them with a smile.

Doctor Frasier immediately went to her patient, checking his reactions to various tests. Sam hugged her dad, thanking him for helping.

"So when will Jack wake up?" Daniel asked.

"Anytime now I presume," Jacob replied.

Janet nodded in agreement. "His vitals appear normal. I have authorized another set of MRI's and CT scans as soon as he wakes. The EEG readings look good. I'm guessing that General Carter is correct in his opinion that there is no permanent damage.

"SAM!" the voice startled the group. Jack was awake, struggling to pull himself into an upright position.

"Shh, Colonel," Janet tried to reassure her patient. "You need to take it easy for a few moments. Do you remember what happened?"

"Sam, where's Sam?" Jack asked again, his eyes wide searching the room.

Carter felt self-conscious. The colonel NEVER used her first name unless he was really worried about her.

"Sam's right here. She's perfectly fine." Janet motioned on of her staff to bring a sedative.

"I'm here, Sir," Carter stepped forward so that Jack could see her.

"You're not Sam! Where is he?" Jack demanded.

"Colonel?" General Hammond questioned. The older man had silently entered the room while Jacob had been using the healing device. Not wanting to interrupt, he'd remained soundless until now. Seeing that his 2IC didn't respond, he tried again. "How are you feeling son?"

Jack paused, looking directly at the man. "Where's Sam?" he demanded.

The general was confused. Major Carter was standing right by his side, clearly in view of Jack.

"Who exactly are you looking for, Colonel?" he asked.

"My son, Sam. Where is he?" desperation was creeping to the colonel's voice.

Hammond looked at Dr. Frasier who shrugged her shoulders. What had happened? Hopefully O'Neill's state of confusion was a temporary side effect of the healing device, because the alternative was not looking very promising.


	11. A New Doctor

One day later

Sam rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had been awake for nearly forty-eight hours; twenty-four hours waiting for the Tok'ra and the next twenty-four researching brain injuries. Shaking her head she slowly stood, a yawn escaping her lips as she stretched her aching muscles.

Jack had been sleeping on and off since his first outburst right after Jacob had healed him. Janet had given the distraught man a sedative, but every time he had woken demanding to see his son, Sam, and refusing to answer any questions. His brain scans had come back showing no signs of damage and Janet was at a loss to explain the colonel's behavior.

Sam made her was to the temporary accommodations for the commissary. The general had announced a briefing for SG-1 and Jacob, and Sam knew she wouldn't make it through the meeting without some coffee.

As she entered the room, Carter saw her father sitting in the chair Colonel O'Neill usually sat in. A twinge of guilt crept into her mind. If only she hadn't been working in the mess hall, Jack would be sitting there right now.

General Hammond entered and assumed his usual spot at the head of the table. "As you know," he began, "I've had a team of highly trained experts investigating the blast. They've discovered it was a relatively small charge that originated from the dessert area. In reviewing the security footage, the culprit was discovered. It turns out the person responsible for the blast was a janitor that had begun working here about three months ago. She was the mother of one of the members of SG-8 that was declared MIA half a year ago. Apparently she wasn't satisfied with the answers we were able to provide in response to her son's disappearance, and decided to infiltrate the base to gather intel and revenge."

"That is not surprising considering the fact that he was stationed in a mountain. Under normal circumstances one does not usually get lost inside such a facility." Selmac informed them.

"What will happen to her?" Daniel questioned.

"As of now, she is in lockup on level 14. She is now deemed a security threat. Until the Joint Chiefs decide how to proceed, she will remain a guest in the mountain's holding cell indefinitely."

"Was it her intention to harm O'Neill specifically?" Teal'c spoke up.

"We're unsure at the moment. It appears that the bomb went off earlier than planned. The sad part is that she used our own explosives against us. She managed to procure the explosive device from a discarded vest shortly after SG-3 came back hot through the gate with injuries. There was such chaos with getting them medical help and dealing with the damage in the gate room, no one noticed her remove the vest.

Thankfully, Jack was the only one injured badly. I can't image the injuries there would have been if the bomb had went off during the lunch hour. The crews have deemed the structural support solid, and the commissary should be back to normal with the next few weeks." Hammond informed them wearily. It had been a very long two days.

The room was silent for a moment contemplating the situation. There was still one topic on their minds that the general hadn't mentioned. Daniel was the first to voice his concern.

"What about Jack?"

Dr. Frasier entered the room just in time to hear the question. "Physically, he's fine, but it's his mental state that I am concerned about," she informed the group while taking her place at the table. Sam met her eyes with concern.

"I've done every test I can think of, and can't find a thing wrong with him be sides the fact that he thinks his son is named Sam. I've never had a case like this. It's like all the facts are there, they've just been jumbled together by the healing process. I can't tell how scrambled his thoughts are because every time I try to talk to him he ends up needing sedation." The doctor was frustrated by her lack of ability to understand the situation.

"Is there any one with whom you can consult?" Hammond asked.

"I think he needs to see a psychiatrist, but no one with the right security clearance comes to mind. I've already had the base psychologist see Colonel O'Neill but it didn't help."

"I may know someone that could help," Jacob spoke up. I used to work with a man in the DHS thirty years ago, a Peter Thornton. I heard that he eventually left the DHS and began running a research institution called the Phoenix Foundation. They pioneer in top secret new scientific research, including the brain. Pete may know someone with the right clearance that could help."

"The Phoenix Foundation? I gave a lecture on astrophysics at a conference they sponsored six years ago, right before I started working on the Stargate project." Sam commented.

"I've heard of them," Daniel added. "They are very diverse in their fields of research and are big on philanthropy."

"Let me see what I can do. It may be nothing, but at least it's a shot," Jacob offered.

"Do it," Hammond commanded.

It was less than an hour later when they were all summoned back to the conference room.

"I called Pete and informed him of our situation. There's a young doctor at the foundation researching memory loss prevention. He studied psychiatry at Johns Hopkins, and Pete thinks that he is just what we need."

"I'm not sure," Sam was a little leery. They needed an expert and this young doctor didn't sound like he was super experienced. The colonel needed the best.

"Sam, I trust Pete. If he says the kid is good, he's good," her father comforted, sensing her fears.

"Well, your recommendation is good enough for me," Hammond stated heading into his office to telephone the president and get clearance for the doctor. The general turned back and looked at his old friend. "What's his name?" he asked.

"It's Sean, Dr. Sean Angus Malloy."


	12. Ten years in the Making

Sean Angus Malloy rubbed his eyes wearily, preparing to head home for the night. His job at the Phoenix Foundation was interesting and he wouldn't trade it for the world. But, it was only a distraction to keep him from thinking about the past.

It had been ten long years since he had seen the battle that claimed his father's life and he still silently blamed himself. If only the two hadn't been so secretive about their missions, maybe MacGyver would still be alive. The only reason he hadn't told his dad about the assignment was because of the guns, Sean knew he would have to use. The military had approached him due to his past experience and requested his assistance in bringing down the rouge group. The young man had arrived and discovered a shell-shocked Jack Dalton just moments after the blast that claimed his father's life.

In the ensuing battle, Sean had been unable to shoot his weapon. MacGyver's voice kept echoing in his head. So, instead of shooting he started saving. No one could count the amount of lives he saved by pulling injured soldiers from the thick of battle. In the midst of bandaging wounds and applying pressure, Sean had found his true calling.

Pete had wept silently at the passing of his most trusted friend. He had taken it upon himself to see that Sean was situated in life. The old, blind man considered Sean the grandson he never had. Pete cashed in every favor he could to earn Sean a seat at the most prestigious medical school in the country.

The boy was smart and with four years had accomplished what took others six. After two years in residency, Sean had accepted a position in research at the Phoenix Foundation, where he had been ever since. But never once had he forgotten that horrible night. That was partially why he specialized in memory research. If he could figure out what caused people to not remember, maybe, just maybe he could make himself forget.

It was a lot for one person to endure during their lifetime. First, he'd seen his mother murdered. Then he'd watched hundreds of atrocities while struggling to survive. For a while he'd reported on them, but then he'd found a better life with the father he'd never hoped to find. But all that had been taken away. Sean couldn't go through that again. Of course, he knew that one day Pete would pass, but it would be different. Pete would go peacefully in his sleep and Sean would be ready. He wasn't going to have his feet yanked out from beneath him while the world crashed down around his ears.

A clicking sound brought Sean out of his dark thoughts. "Door's open, Pete," Sean called knowingly. Straitening his tall, lean body Sean waited for Pete to enter the room. He had become accustomed to sound Pete's cane made as the elderly man walked, besides who else would still be working here at this time of night?

"Just like MacGyver," Pete mused entering the office with a sad smile.

Sean closed his eyes and sighed. Well, at least he wasn't the only one.

"You do know it's well past quitting time don't you?" the older man asked.

"I could say the same to you," Sean replied.

"Touché," Pete answered, maneuvering into the worn maroon lounge chair in the corner. Sean would have gotten rid of that thing long ago except it was a favorite spot for Pete to take refuge in away from the nagging bureaucrats.

"So what brings you to the dreary offices at this hour?" Sean questioned.

Pete shifted his weight. "A telephone call actually, an old friend from my DHS days."

Sean whistled. "That is an old friend," he teased.

A small smile crossed Pete's face. "Thirty years," he mused. "We'd lost track of each other and I'd heard rumors that he'd died of cancer several years back."

"Obviously only rumors then," Sean interjected.

"Yes, he sounded very healthy on the phone. Healthy, but worried. He asked me for a favor and I think you can help."

"Me? What's the problem?"

"It seems he has a friend that's suffering from a brain injury that has resulted in some memory loss. Jacob asked me if I knew anyone that could help."

"Why me? I'm sure that there are much better qualified and experienced doctors." Sean knew there was more to this than what Pete was letting on.

"Because, we have pioneering research and experimental medications." Pete hesitated for a moment before continuing, "We also have the clearance needed."

Sean stood and paced the room. There was only one reason he would need clearance. "I don't do military, Pete. You know that."

"Sean, please. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you were the man for the job. I know you don't take pleasure in military contracts, but Jacob sounded desperate. Do this for me, please."

The younger man sank back into the chair behind his desk. He rested his chin on folded hands as he contemplated the idea of accepting. In the end, Sean knew that he couldn't refuse. Pete was the only family that he had left. He also knew what his father would have done. For his father's memory, he would do this.

"Well?" Pete asked hesitantly upon hearing the silent room. He couldn't see the small weary smile on Sean's face.

Giving a small sigh and shaking his head Sean stood up and walked over to the blind man. Placing a hand on his shoulder, the younger man answered. "You had me at 'I think you can help' it seems."

"That's great!" Pete wrestled into a standing position. "I'll call Jacob right away."

Three hours later, Sean sat in the back seat of an Air Force fighter jet en route to Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. He knew little about the case, and even less about the location.

When Pete had called his friend back with Sean's response, he'd received a set of instructions to pass on to the young doctor. He'd had little time to pack. Sean was picked up in front of the Phoenix Foundation less than two hours later by an Air Force rep. From there he was driven to the closest military base, where he was transferred from car to jet. Once in the air he was finally given his destination, Colorado Springs. Sean knew that there was an Air Force academy based there, along with a hospital.

He'd heard vague rumors about secret military testing and research there, but he'd never paid any interest to the hushed whispers. Now he regretted this decision for several reasons. First, his patient maybe suffering from an injury sustained by this secret research. Knowing the military, he'd never discover the cause of the injury making it very difficult to determine the best possible cure. Two, they had specifically looked for an individual with the proper clearance. He really hoped that simply examining the patient wouldn't put him on some list that made him a target. Target for what he didn't know, but simply being a target was nerve wrecking. Thirdly, he didn't want to discover something top secret and suddenly end up as never having existed according to all records. He rather enjoyed freedom at the moment, and being held hostage by his own government didn't sound all that inviting.

When they landed, Sean was met by a tall, thin brown haired man who introduced himself as Major Davis.

The major wasted no time ushering the doctor over the tarmac to a waiting humvee. "We'll be at the base in less than five minutes, Sir. You'll be briefed upon arrival." This effectively ended all conversation that Sean may have expected during the short drive. Sean quietly studied the major. He was perhaps slightly older than himself. A grim expression rested on the man's forehead. If Sean didn't know any better, he would have said the man was worried, very worried.

The steel chain fence topped with barbwire wasn't inviting, Sean noted as the humvee was ushered through an open gate and into the massive mountain. The door was opened and an airman withdrew his luggage.

"Follow me, Sir," Major Davis led the way further into the base. An armed guard stood on either side of an elevator at the end of the corridor that Sean was led down.

None of this made sense to the young doctor. Why was he being taken to the base instead of the hospital? And what was with all the security? You'd think they had the secret of the universe stored under the mountain instead of an injured man.

Sean signed his name on the clipboard that the Major handed him and then followed the man into the steel elevator.

"The ride will take a few minutes," Davis said distractedly.

A few minutes?! Sean looked at the buttons. Just how far underground did the complex go?

At level 11, the elevator stopped and Davis led Sean down another hall. At the end of this hall, several armed men stood next to a machine. The major placed his right hand on the smooth scanning surface. The head guard nodded approval and the others formed a path allowing the major through. Sean reached out tentatively. The hand scanner was cold as a green light beamed through the spaces between his fingers.

He too was granted permission to pass the checkpoint. Sean wondered how in the world they had managed to get his palm print on file, or if he had just given it to them.

The head guard looked at Davis. The major quickly answered the unasked question. "Level 21, infirmary, by General Hammond's orders. He's here for Colonel O'Neill."

Finally! At last, Sean had the name of his patient. But his moment of triumph was cut short. The main guard rose from his seat behind the hand scanner. "General Hammond has ordered the doctor to be taken to level 25 VIP quarters."

Sean stepped forward impatiently. "I demand to see my patient first, if he has a head wound it could be life threatening. I don't need to get settled into a VIP suite."

The guard looked Sean in the eye. "I'd be more than happy to let you examine the Colonel. But right now he's unavailable." The guard turned back to Davis.

"What do you mean unavailable? He's a sick man and I'm his doctor. I know a bit about military protocol. A doctor outranks a general in matters of the wellbeing of a patient."

The guard spun to face Sean. "Sir, I wish I could let you exam YOUR patient. But right now we've got to find him first!" He turned back to Davis. "As I was trying to tell you before being interrupted, Colonel O'Neill is missing."


	13. Jack pulls a Macgyver

MacGyver's head was jumbled. A memory flashed through his mind. He remembered spying a fleeting image from the corner of his eye right before he set off the flare gun in the midst of the rouge camp. It was Sam. He didn't know why his son was there, but he needed to get him away. He started running towards Sam, who appeared to be headed the same direction as Jack's hiding spot. The last thing he clearly remembered was running and seeing the round metal ball land 20 feet in front of him. He remembered feeling its heat and being tossed very far through the air, then nothing but blackness.

Next thing he recalled was lots of beeping, a fuzzy image of someone in white standing over him, and some balding guy telling him everything was going to be okay. His head was pounding it felt like he'd tried to crack open a boulder with his head. He felt dizzy. Jack. This was all Jack's fault.

'I'm going to kill him,' MacGyver thought. Suddenly another stabbing pain burst through his head.

He could hear a voice telling him to hold on for just a little bit longer. He could feel her holding his hand. Sara, it must be Sara. But that wasn't right. Who was Sara and why did her name pop into his thoughts.

A deep male voice echoed telling him that the message had been sent to the Tok'ra. They should answer soon.

Another male voice told him that he may need to consider a symbiote. Not just for his sake but Sam's as well. All he could do was think what the hell was this symbiote thing?

Finally, a warm tingly sensation began making its way over his body. The throbbing ankle eased into a comfortable rest. His insides suddenly didn't feel as if they were trying to make their way outside. The only thing that didn't stop aching was his head. The searing and painful explosions of pain stopped, but it felt like a building pressure remained. It was like his mind was on information overload. He just wanted it to stop.

A voice floated through his memories, "Hey Dad! Come on Dad get up! Time is wasting away!"

Sam! Where was Sam? Was he alright? Suddenly wide-awake, MacGyver shot straight up.

"Sam!" Several people he didn't recognize were standing around his bed.

"Shh, Colonel," The woman with a nameplate that read Dr. Janet Fraiser tried to reassure her patient. "You need to take it easy for a few moments. Do you remember what happened?"

"Sam, where's Sam?" Jack asked again, his eyes wide searching the room. Another woman with short blonde hair avoided his gazed and seemed embarrassed by his question.

"Sam's right here. She's perfectly fine." Janet motioned one of her staff to bring her something.

"I'm here, Sir," The woman apparently named Sam stepped forward so that Jack could see her better.

"You're not Sam! Where is he?" Jack demanded. He didn't understand what was happening. The group appeared to be US military.

"Colonel?" A rounded older man with a baldhead questioned. General Hammond was the name on his badge. After a brief pause he asked, "How are you feeling son?"

Jack paused, looking directly at the man. "Where's Sam?" he demanded.

The general seemed confused by the question and looked at the blonde haired woman.

"Who exactly are you looking for, Colonel?" he asked returning his gaze to the bed.

"My son, Sam. Where is he?" desperation was creeping to the colonel's voice. He needed to know Sam was alright, that he had escaped the battle unharmed.

Hammond looked at Dr. Frasier who shrugged her shoulders. They both looked at MacGyver.

"I want my son!" he demanded, the bed shaking from the force of his command.

Hammond's eyes softened and he approached MacGyver's side. "Son, he's not here." Several members of the group looked away, sadness etched on their faces.

"Where is he?!" MacGyver wasn't going to cave.

"Charlie died almost seven years ago, right before his tenth birthday."

MacGyver froze. "That's not true!" he shouted throwing the blanket off and attempting to rise from the bed. The big black man and the smaller one with glasses rushed forward to help the doctor restrain MacGyver while she administered a sedative. MacGyver thrashed while the medicine took effect.

"Sam's not dead! I saw him yesterday in the desert he was alive! He can't be dead. He can't be." Tears streamed down his face as the blackness closed around his mind.

Sam couldn't watch anymore. Her own tears blinded her vision as she raced from the room.

The next twenty-four hours were a repeat of the last five minutes. MacGyver would wake, demand his son and then be sedated again. He was confused and angry. Something was terribly wrong.

The environment did nothing to calm his mood. The walls were cold and grey. The thick cement had no widows and closer resembled a prison than a hospital. And the people were of no comfort. They looked at him with sympathy and a familiarity that was unsettling.

Most addressed him as colonel or sir. The general and the odd-looking older man in animal skin referred to him as son. At times, he would feign unconsciousness to listen to the peculiar conversations and gather intel.

He was positive that wherever he was, it wasn't on the level. It might be some sort of privately run base. He was certain that the rouge group had captured him, but what they wanted he had yet to figure out. They weren't trying to get any secrets from him.

Finally, he concluded that they must be trying to break him down mentally, by telling him his son was dead and confusing his mind by making him think he was someone else.

He had to get away before they tried to do anything else. He had no idea how long he'd been captured, or even how long he'd been awake. The last time he'd regained consciousness, they had temporarily removed his restraints until he'd gone what the doctor called 'hysterical' again. But he'd been fully aware of his actions, and had held his wrists in such a way that the restraints were loose when they reapplied them.

MacGyver cautiously opened his eyes. He'd been awake for over an hour. The doctor and the rest of something called SG-1 had been called to a meeting, presumably about himself. The infirmary was almost empty. A lone nurse stood at the far end inventorying the medication.

Relaxing his muscles, MacGyver carefully wiggled his wrist. The restraint slowly eased. He pulled harder, ignoring the crackling bones on his hand as he pulled his left hand free. His thumb hung uselessly, having been pulled out of socket. It would have to be ignored for now.

It didn't take long for him to release the rest of his bindings. Slowly, he eased himself from the bed. Silently, he crept to the exit and found himself in a long cement hall.

He quickly walked from one door to the next until he found an open door. It turned out that the door led to the lockers for the medical staff. After assuring himself that the area was vacant, MacGyver quickly rummaged through the unlocked metal shelves.

He managed to find a pair of jean and a shirt his size. Several lockers later, a pair of shoes donned his once bare feet. Money was no problem either, though he did feel sort of guilty about "barrowing" it. What puzzled him most however, were the small boxes that resembled phones, they seemed to be in almost every locker. They couldn't be phones through. Car phones were bigger and regular phones had cords attached. Maybe they were some type of walkie-talkie? He shook his head and pushed the curious item from his mind. Right now, that was the least important thing in his agenda.

His dislocated thumb was throbbing. Quickly making sure no one was coming; MacGyver tightly gripped the joint and pulled with a swift jerk. I small cry of pain escaped his lips nearly drowning out the sound of his bones slipping back into place. Once, the pain has eased for a few seconds, eased himself into the hall.

The corridors seemed strangely familiar, but MacGyver was sure that he had never been in this facility before. Yet, somehow, he knew the paths that would led him safely to escape. He spied a hatch in the side of the wall and quickly opened it. The tunnel inside had a ladder attached in the inner wall, which stretched up and down as far as he could see. Oh how he hated heights!

He gripped the cold metal bars, and began his assent. MacGyver didn't know how long he had climbed when he finally reached the surface, but the cool breeze was a welcome change from the stiff air of the tunnel. Checking to be sure the area was clear, he snuck through the woods. The area was oddly familiar and that bothered him. When he had first begun his escape, he hadn't much time to think. But the time he'd spent climbing to the top had given him ample thinking time.

Nothing made sense. It was like tip of the tongue syndrome. He knew he was missing something, but he just couldn't quite think of what it was. At that moment, he knew where he had to go.

MacGyver knew he should probably find Pete, call Sam, or find out what his captors wanted. But, he needed a clear head first. There was only one place where he could get that, his cabin.


	14. Doctor meet Doctor

Sam was an emotional wreck. First, Jack had been injured because of her. Then, he couldn't remember her. Now, he'd run away from here. Okay yes, she was being a little self-centered. But in some odd way of thinking, Samantha Carter considered Jack O'Neill hers. She knew it was wrong, but after everything they had been through together, it was inevitable.

Two minutes was all it had taken. Two minutes from the moment they met for her to be madly in love with him. Two minutes for him to be almost killed while saving her. Two minutes for the specialist to arrive at the mountain. Two minutes for him to escape.

Sam hadn't left the waiting area outside the infirmary since her father had called his old friend. Then, the general announced that the doctor had landed and would be at the base within minutes.

He had called a meeting with SG-1, Dr, Frasier, and Jacob. He wanted to be clear what information could and could not be disclosed to the specialist. The meeting was standard protocol for any off base medical personal that would be treating the members of Stargate Command. Being as each case was different, variations in back-story were created.

Colonel O'Neill's case would be more complicated than most. If he started to remember about the gate, and unknowingly mentioned it to the doctor, the ensuing security breech could have disastrous results. Little did Hammond know that in trying to prevent a breech, he had provided the means for the subject of said meeting to escape.

Sam could feel the panic rising in her chest when the nurse ran into the room alerting them of O'Neill's disappearance. At first, Sam thought that perhaps he'd been kidnapped. Thankfully, a quick review of the security footage revealed he'd left of his own accord. But, that only eased some of her fears.

Jack was now loose on the world and didn't know who he was. There were a lot of people out there that wanted the information in his head. Without his memories, Jack wouldn't know who to trust or what he shouldn't say.

She was at a loss. Where was he going? What was he going to do? For the first time in her life, Sam couldn't put together a coherent thought. What should she do? Vaguely, she heard Hammond order her to VIP on 25 to meet with the doctor. Janet grasped her elbow and led her towards the elevators.

Once the doors shut, the doctor turned her and looked her in the eyes. "Sam, I know this is hard for you. But the colonel needs you know more than ever. You need to snap out of it."

The colonel needed her. The words slowly echoed in her head, clearing the fog as they went. The colonel needs me, she silently chanted until the lift stopped and Janet led her down the hall.

She was ready now; she knew what she had to do. "Thanks," Sam whispered to Janet as they knocked on the door.

"Anytime," the doctor replied as the dull grey door opened.

A young brown haired man ushered them inside. He was taller than her, Sam noted, about Jack's height. He had warm brown eyes, that at the moment were reflecting concern. Sam couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him seemed familiar.

"I assume that you're here to brief me about my patient?" he questioned.

Janet nodded. "Yes, although it might be awhile before you actually meet him."

"Major Davis, told me he's missing," Sam couldn't help but hear the unasked questions in the comment.

"He escaped while the nurse wasn't looking. The general has the entire base looking for him. But, he thought that it would be best if Major Carter and I," Janet motioned towards Sam, "informed you of the situation and began going over his medical records."

"Waste as little time as possible," he nodded in agreement, leading the women to the medium sized table near the foot the bed.

"Good," Janet replied. "I suppose I should introduce myself, I'm Dr. Janet Frasier, head of the medical staff here on base, and this is Major Dr. Samantha Carter."

"Sam," the major corrected extending a hand.

The young man shook her hand. "I'm Dr. Malloy, but you can call me Sean. Are you also a specialist as well?"

"Astrophysicist. I'm Colonel O'Neill's 2IC, and I was present when he was injured. General Hammond thought I might be useful in explaining exactly how the colonel was injured."

Janet placed a large white envelope on the table, along with a thick file folder. "I've brought the most current x-ray, CAT scan, and MRI results," she said pointing to the envelope. "And here's Colonel O'Neill's medical records," she patted the folder.

Sean's eyes went wide. "All THAT?!" What had the man be doing to himself? The doctor wondered, gawking at the three-inch stack of paper.

"Well, everything that hasn't been redacted. You have to understand that these are classified documents."

Sean was still in a bit of shock. Classified medical records? What did they do here? Sean tried to break his silence. "Well I guess it's not that bad for forty or so years of history."

"This is only for the past seven years, ever since Colonel O'Neill has been stationed here. I don't have his medical history for before that time." Janet stated.

SEVEN YEARS!? Sean was glad he was sitting, otherwise, he might have collapsed. What did they do? Use the soldiers as guinea pigs?

He swallowed hard. Where to begin?


End file.
